Unexpected Oxymoron
by ChristinaMay
Summary: # EFFIE/HAYMITCH. The story starts when Effie is rescued from imprisonment in Mockingjay; she is not quite herself, but can a certain drunken mentor pick up the pieces once more? This is the story of two broken souls, finding their way together despite the fact that they are complete opposites.
1. Prologue: Reminiscence

**NOTE FROM AUTHOR: **This is the prologue of my first story on here; this will be a fanfiction centred around the relationship between Haymitch Abernathy and Effie Trinket from _The Hunger Games_ trilogy - I do not own any of these characters, as they have been invented by the fabulous Suzanne Collins. Please, read and review! I know that the prologue is not at all very interesting, but it has eased me into Effie's character. I am not used to writing in first person, so please give me some feedback and excuse any mistakes that have been made!

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I had not expected to find such warmth in my new home. I call it a home, but it is in fact a short-term arrangement until I am back on my feet. I would never have expected to find myself in District 12; it would have been the last district in Panem that I would live in. I could have found comfort in the more sophisticated districts – I even would have had a continual flow of my delectable treats that I loved so much in the Capitol. I can almost taste the chocolate-covered strawberries and the delicious toffees that would melt in my mouth – yes, Effie Trinket does indeed have a sweet tooth. I know that I will miss these home comforts, and the endless parties that I would attend each weekend – I will most definitely miss the class that was shown in the Capitol. But after what had happened to me there, I'm not sure if I will ever find comfort there in the future.

I am rushing ahead with my story, readers. I do apologize, for I can sometimes jump into these stories without a thought! I'm afraid that my mind is still on the chocolate-covered strawberries – oh, how I miss my treats. However, there is a story to be told and I am determined to look back and face these so-called demons. It all started in the Capitol, when chaos broke out during these rebellions in various other districts – I will describe it as a ripple in a pond, as it seemed like violence was spreading like wildfire throughout Panem. I have never excused such rude acts of viciousness – I found these rebellions to be rather unattractive in some manners. However, I, Effie Trinket, became a rebel. Yes, you heard me readers, I became a rebel of sorts during this rebellion.

I suppose it stemmed from my fondness of Katniss Everdeen – my first victor. I had never allowed myself to feel any form of sentiments towards the tributes, but I felt empowered. This young woman had grown from volunteering for her sister, to leading a rebellion throughout Panem. No, I will never admit this to her in person, of course, that would be quite too much emotion for me to handle – but it was the first time in my existence that I felt powerless. I didn't much relish that feeling. I passed information onto the rebel forces before I was taken prisoner under suspicion that I was involved in rebel activities; however, I knew that each person in the Capitol that had been in contact with the victors during the Games, had been taken prisoner and some had even been killed! I knew it would be a matter of time before I was silenced, also.

I was terrified, you know. This is not something that I feel often, for I had no reason to feel like that! But my imprisonment had been dreadful. I can still remember the sound of feet marching down the corridor outside, and the sound of the guards unlocking the door so that the Peacekeepers could enter and stare down at me. I can feel the shocks run through my petite form each time I refused to talk, and those instruments that were used on me…I shudder to recall these memories. So instead of distressing you all with such acts of violence, I will start from when I was rescued.


	2. Chapter One: I Look Like Hell

**NOTE FROM AUTHOR: **I know that the prologue was rather boring, so I thought that I would update tonight again with the first chapter in this story. I'm looking forward to receiving some reviews and feedback on this story so that I have the encouragement to continue! Again, please excuse any mistakes that were made, and remember that these characters were created by the one and only Suzanne Collins, and not me, because I'm not that smart! ;] And please note that I am new to writing in first person, so please let me know if I suddenly switch now and then into third person, it's a bad habit of mine!

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I had been attending a rather refined soiree when the Peacekeepers had interrupted the feast; at first, I couldn't believe the lack of manners that these men and women possessed. I had marched towards one of them and started to voice my opinion on such distasteful behaviour, however this seemed to be the last thing on their minds. The Peacekeepers had forced us to form a line against the wall as we watched them demolish the beautiful and vibrant decorations that had adorned each ornament in the room; I still wince when I remember the sound of the bottles of expensive wine smashing upon the marble floor. I still see red when I remember the crimson liquid soaking the white rug; I had never seen such rude behaviour in my entire existence. I could have remained silent and watched them tear up the room without a care in the world, but as the Peacekeepers ascended to the food table, I could not bear it. I had pointed one of my perfectly-manicured fingers in one of their faces and insisted that they leave at once. "You are Effie Trinket, the escort for District 12," one of them had pointed out. That was all it took to put me under arrest.

I sat there in my cell after weeks on end, and I still could not believe that not one of my friends came to my defence. I was poked and pushed, and not one of them spoke out for me as I would have done for them. But when I look back in hindsight, I realise that I did not possess true friends in the Capitol – I had acquaintances, of course, but not friends. It was a sad thought at first, but then the pain of the endless torture distracted me. I will not shock you with the details of my time in one of the Capitol's prisons, but it has scarred me, readers. I realised after my rescue that I possess more than physical scars now – I have scars that are bottomless. I wanted to die in that cell; to fall into a peaceful slumber and never wake.

This was my perfect plan; the Peacekeepers had not come to question me for a whole week. It had been evident that they would leave me to starve; to save more blood on their hands. I curled into a ball in the corner of my cell in order to escape the stench from the middle of the small room; I was quite sure that I was saturated in my own blood and urine; I had lost all sense of self-preservation after endless weeks in that cell. I rested my head against the moist wall and allowed my lashes to flutter closed. It was the darkness that calmed me; I tried to imagine the whole 'light at the end of the tunnel' scenario in my head in order to make it fast. I wanted to slide away from this life and into another, as my grandmother once put it.

I must have fallen asleep eventually, because I woke to the sound of the door unlocking. I covered my face in my hands at that moment; exhorting myself to just die already. I cowered from the impending steps upon the cell floor and I could hear myself whimper into my hands. I couldn't look at this Peacekeeper – I did not want to see the face of the man or woman that would kill me in cold blood. I have seen too many faces like that; those who had tortured me, shocked me, and starved me. I did not want another face to add to the endless list. The darkness was a haven now as I could hear the heavy breathing of a male towering over me.

"Effie?" It sounded more like a question. I still did not look up.

I felt a warm touch of my hand, but I immediately cowered from it. There were tears beading my lashes now as I shook my head, which was still buried in my hands. I refused to move from this corner – if he wanted to kill me, then he would have to do it fast. I wouldn't speak, I wouldn't move, and that would make it easier for this man to kill me.

"Please, Effie, look at me." The voice sounded more anxious now as I felt a warm hand wrap around my own. I remained adamant however, and wouldn't move my arms. "Look, I will start making rude gestures if you won't look at me, if that's what it takes," the man muttered with a familiar tone of impatience embroidered into his husky voice. It had been so long since I heard this voice, but it couldn't be true. I refused to believe it. I reluctantly took my hands away from my tear-stained face and squinted at the man. I noticed the lazy stature, the dirty blonde hair that was strewn across his face, and those dark orbs that gazed down at me.

"Oh, Haymitch, are you dead too?" I mumbled in a hoarse voice. I clutched at the warm, calloused hand around mine. The cell still seemed the same to me, but who was I to judge the scenery that was chosen in the afterlife? "I didn't think that you would be the one to meet me. I mean, there is always my sweet grandmother and…"

"Sweetheart, even if we were dead, I would be avoiding you in the afterlife, too," Haymitch interrupted me with an amused snort. My amazed expression soon dissolved at his rude attitude and I yanked my hands away from his, dismissing the fact that he had been kind to me when he had first entered my cell. "I'm in here with some of the rebel troops, we were collecting rebel prisoners in all of the prisons," he explained briefly. "It's over, Eff."

This should have been the point in the story where I shouted praises to the rooftops, or at least smiled, but my expression remained as vacant as a piece of parchment as I gazed up at this man in amazement. "I should have known that you weren't here for me personally," I hissed under my breath. "If you could please point me towards these soldiers, then I will make my way towards some sunlight, thank you very much," I mumbled at him. I noticed that my once-manicured nails were now ruined as I pushed Haymitch from me and went to stand on my own two feet. However, this had not gone according to plan. My dramatic exit had crumbled, and so had my limbs – Haymitch was there in a moment to catch me before my face came into contact with the concrete floor. This was not the scenario I had imagined.

"I see that you still haven't found time to shower during this rebellion," I uttered to him as soon as I was safe on my feet and leaning into his broad form for support. His answer was an amused grunt as he seemed to examine me now that I was in the light of the cell; I could picture what he was looking at. My shimmering golden-coloured hair had been torn from me as soon as I had been imprisoned and now my fair curls hung lifeless around my heart-shaped face. I assumed that there would have been make-up smeared all over my face from my numerous fits of tears within my time there; I could even see my false lashes somewhere on the floor of the cell. I had been adorned in a silk gown when I had been taken, but it now hardly covered my bruised and battered body; it was torn into shreds.

"I know you haven't seen a mirror in a while, sweetheart, but you don't look too hot yourself," he muttered into my ear. This had caused tears to brim my eyes and sniffles to emit from me; if there was something that Haymitch loathed, it was weeping women. He looked down at me with something similar to guilt flitting across his expression. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to start the water works," he said frantically, but I continued to sob into his shoulder, despite the fact that he did quite emit a frightening stench. However, I assumed that I smelt much worse having been shut up in this cell for weeks on end.

"I'm sure that you'll look just like your old self with a bit of soap and water…and uh, some perfume or whatever it is that you wear," he murmured awkwardly. I almost smiled at his failed attempts of comfort and eventually tore my tears away from his shoulder. I looked into his sorrowful expression and I felt safe – even though I was there with Haymitch, the most disrespectful and drunken man she had ever met – I felt like nothing could touch me. He took the side of my face in his hand and ran his thumb along my cheekbone as he collected the tears that I had left. "If there are any more tears from here to the door, I'll need more than a few drinks to recover," he muttered.

I leant my face into the warmth of his palm, but when I heard his last words, my eyes snapped open and I pursed my lips in disapproval. However, before I had time to retort on the unattractiveness of drunkards, he bent down and swept me into his arms. I can remember leaning my head on his shoulder, and looking at the inside of my cell as he left the room; I noticed that my golden wig was dishevelled in one of the corners. I believe that I truly walked away from the old Effie Trinket that day that I was rescued by Haymitch Abernathy. I closed my eyes as soon as the lights came up in the winding corridors of the prison.

"I'm glad that you're safe."

I can never be sure if I had imagined those words come from him that day, but it was the last thing I remembered before I fell asleep in Haymitch's arms.


	3. Chapter Two: Permanent Bruises

**NOTE FROM AUTHOR: **So this chapter took me a little longer than I hoped, but I promise to add in more smut soon! I want the relationship between Haymitch and Effie to kind of be gradual. I wrote this chapter in Haymitch's point of view - I hope you enjoy, and please review so I know that people want to continue reading this story!

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(_Haymitch's POV_)

I haven't moved from this one seat for the past two days. I have wandered off to find some alcohol now and then, to quench the relentless craving and the sorrow that pulled at me. I also sometimes roam the corridors with a bottle tucked inside my coat; but I never leave the hospital, not when she is still here, all alone. I would have thought that her hospital room would have been full of her flashy friends at this point, no doubt with matching hair colours and nails or some such nonsense. I could have left then, I could have took care of business and indulge in some decent liquor. But no-one came to her; not a family member or one of her flamboyant friends. I had imagined that the room would have been full of cards and suffocating with the stench of exotic flowers, but instead she would be met with the pungent scent of my alcohol when she woke. Effie Trinket had no-one in the world, but me. It seemed that the odds definitely were not in her favour.

The first night in the hospital had been the worst. Effie hadn't woken since I took her from the prison cell that she had been imprisoned in, but still I had to listen to her whimpering continuously from her relentless nightmares. She would scream sometimes, and writhe in the bed sheets until her brow was shimmering with sweat. Oh yes, I wanted to leave then. I had enough trouble with my own nightmares, and I didn't even want to wait until she woke. I would have to listen to her complain about how I smell, and rant about my bad manners. She might even be well enough to take my bottle from me, and that wouldn't be pretty.

"Don't leave me here on my own." She had started to form words in her sleep. I wasn't quite sure if she was addressing me at that moment, which she most likely was not, but I couldn't leave her after she had uttered those words.

I felt like a mad man by the time two days had passed. I would find myself staring at her as she lay there like a broken doll on the hospital bed; I was amazed at how different she looked without Capitol cosmetics ruining all over her most attractive features. Her natural golden hair was feathered out on the soft white pillow beneath her head; it was obvious that Effie intended to keep it somewhat short in order to make her wigs more comfortable. It fell in impeccable curls around her neck – even in unconsciousness, she was perfect. I closed my blood-shot eyes for a moment as I tried to pull myself back to reality – I intensely disliked Effie Trinket. No, I almost loathed her at times. I would find myself clutching my knife at the dinner table whenever she continued to rattle on about manners and how bad my attitude was. But as I looked at her now, with such an innocent expression, I felt all that anger ooze away and it was replaced with an unfamiliar sentiment that didn't seem to mix well with the alcohol.

I reached out and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear; I could certainly get used to this – Effie Trinket who was a lot prettier and didn't open her mouth. I felt my mouth pull into a small smile at the thought of it – but what fun would it be without our daily arguments?

I continued to look at each unblemished feature on her face, despite the fact that my entire mind-set was hollering at me to look away. But it was too late – my gaze fell upon her pink lips that were now parted in her sleep. It was interesting to look at them in their natural colour – I can remember times when Effie would wear shimmering blue or even green lipstick. If only she knew how much better she looked without all that garbage on her face – I didn't see what she had to hide. I mean, I would understand if you had a face that only a mother could love, but surprisingly, this woman was a natural beauty. A smirk formed on my lips as I realised that I could now tease her; she would never have let me see her like this before. My hand had lingered at her hair whenever I tucked away that loose strand, and now I found myself battling against the desire to touch her lips – just for one short moment, to see if they would feel as soft as I thought they would.

"What is that _smell_?" The remark came from her as soon as my hand was near her lips. I immediately retracted my hovering hand and brought the bottle of liquor to my lips.

"That would be me, princess. I couldn't resist bringing my intoxicating odour to your hospital room." I smirked at her astonished expression; even when she was half-asleep, she still managed to make the same facial expressions as she often did. "However, you seem to scrub up pretty well."

"No…" Her voice was a soft murmur now as her delicate hands went immediately to her head. She looked horrified when she felt the short blonde curls around her face. "I do not believe this, what kind of _hospital_…" She trailed off as she caught my expression.

Her eyes narrowed at my amused smile; I leant back in my chair and nursed my bottle close to me as I looked at her in satisfaction. "How _dare_ you tease me, Haymitch Abernathy, after all that I have been through?" Her ashen face was soon transforming to red. It was rather adorable; not that I would admit that in public. "Now, could you please call a nurse so that I can have you escorted out of my room?"

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. "And why on earth would I do that, sweetheart? We were having such a fun argument, and you still haven't commented on my beard," I grinned.

Effie pursed her lips in dissatisfaction; I could feel my body react to that simple gesture as my throat went dry. "Now that you mention it, yes, it _is_ hideous. But I have some business to attend to, so please leave."

I didn't sit in her damn hospital room for two days straight, just to be kicked out without a word. "Not a chance, princess," I murmured in a husky tone. I turned and looked out the nearest window and brought the bottle to my mouth once more in order to distract myself from her penetrating gaze that seemed to burn through me.

"I…have to go to the toilet…so do listen to me," she hissed back at me in contempt.

I turned back towards her and raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me, I didn't think I heard you, it must be my hearing – I'm suffering from lack of complaints lately."

"For goodness sake, I just told you…"

"But I didn't quite hear you, like I said…"

"I NEED TO _PEE_, HAYMITCH."

I beamed at her in amusement and feigned innocence as I put my bottle down on the bedside locker. Yes, I have to admit that I missed the banter between us both. "Well, there is no need to raise your voice – someone once told me that it was _very_ bad manners. Come on then," I exclaimed, holding out my hand to her.

Effie looked at my hand as if it had just turned green. She shook her head vehemently; her blonde curls were now dishevelled as she sat up painfully from the bed. My grin vanished as her hospital gown moved to reveal white blotches around her collar-bone and chest – it looked almost as if she had acid or something poured on her. It was crowned with numerous bruises that were speckled upon her petite body. I took a deep breath.

"What did they do to you, Eff?" I muttered, not exactly wanting to know the answer.

"They are monsters." She didn't elaborate more on the subject, and I didn't ask her. She pushed the button beside her bed and a nurse soon appeared at the door and assisted Effie in moving to the nearest bathroom.

I remained on the spot where I had been standing; I could feel a bubbling anger in my stomach as I realised how much she had suffered at the hands of the Capitol. Her animated happiness had been torn away from her; her blue eyes were vacant when she looked at me. At that moment, I was overcome with such anger. I clutched the bottle of liquor on the table and threw it against the wall at the other end of the room; the liquid oozed down the whitewashed walls and the shards of glass glistened in the light that poured through the window.

I should have went back for her. I should have done _something_.


	4. Chapter Three: Screams In The Night

**NOTE FROM AUTHOR: **I haven't updated this story in a few days, because I haven't really received much of a response! But for those who are reading this story, thank you so much for taking the time to read! It only takes a minute to review, so please let me know what you think and give me some motivation to continue! I also apologise if there are a few mistakes (such as switching into third person), because it is the middle of the night and I still need to read over it and correct my mistakes!

I have split this into Haymitch's POV and Effie's POV - the second part is in the eyes of Effie, because I missed her voice in this story! It's obvious that Effie has a little crush on Haymitch, but does he feel the same way? I mean, she's still a Capitol citizen after all! Oh, and I haven't read Mockingjay in quite some time now, so I opted to leave out some of Katniss' story. I mean, it still happens, but I'm concentrating on Effie here. She is mostly recovered physically, but not mentally - she is staying at the President's Mansion whilst everyone decides on what happens with the future of Panem, BASICALLY.

Please read and review and let me know what you think! (:

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(_Haymitch's POV_)

Her condition seemed to improve during the next week, as she was treated for the various wounds that she suffered at the hands of the Capitol. I would sometimes watch the doctors treat her from outside her hospital room; it seemed that I paid much more attention to these details now that my alcohol had been taken from me. It was bad enough that I had been sober during the rebellion for the most part, but now I felt compelled to watch over this infuriating woman _whilst _remaining sober at all times – it would have been easier to smash my head repeatedly against a brick wall. That would have been less painful. I knew that I felt sadness whenever I watched Effie dream or when she mentioned her wounds; but that woman became more and more irritating as the treatment went on. She would switch from a broken doll to her usual animated self in a second – and I thought that women were bad enough for mood swings, but Effie Trinket was much worse. Of course she was; she was a Capitol woman.

"I know that you _never_ take my advice into consideration, Haymitch, but please would you shave that beard, it really does not flatter your bone structure," she said to me one day.

I could feel my brow rise in surprise at her sudden outburst, but I took her bait. She was too easy to wind up sometimes. "It's nice to know that you admire my bone structure, Eff. However, there are more things to concentrate on at the moment rather than my beard."

Effie stared at me in confusion; I still hadn't informed her of the events that had happened since she had been rescued. Katniss and Peeta had been injured in the last mission of the rebellion, and Katniss' sweet little sister had died…somehow, I found it sad that she still met her demise despite the fact that Katniss had volunteered for her in the Games. It seemed that she was destined to die, as awful as that thought was to process. It was too easy to become attached to others when they now lived in the village with me. I hated it.

"Even so, Haymitch, you look like some kind of drunken lumberjack," she whined.

I could feel my mouth move into a smile and I leaned closer to her as she sat uncomfortably on the hospital bed. "If you haven't noticed, there hasn't been an ounce of liquor in my body for the past few days," I grunted in response. She seemed to look down at me with consideration for a moment; her head was tilted to the side and her short blonde curls bounced around her heart-shaped face and made her look much younger and more care-free. It was an expression that I had never witnessed on Effie's face before; mostly because with that Capitol mask of hers, it was hard to actually decipher her expressions. It was adorable. However, it seemed that my scrutiny had been longer than I expected and I quickly looked away from her and sat back on the chair beside her bed. It was humiliating enough that I felt bound to remain there with her, but now she started to catch my unintentional glances in her direction. I didn't want her to form some kind of idea; such as I could actually _like_ her. No, no matter what happened to her, she was still the same old Effie that infuriated me.

It wasn't until she was released from the hospital that I realised how wrong I was.

(_Effie's POV_)

I felt it before I saw it. The intensity and heat of that gaze was something that I became familiar with. I assumed at the start that he was some kind of doctor, because I could hear the hushed tones filter through the door. The man would stand outside the cell and peer in at me with these bottomless orbs; his eyes were entirely black. I knew by instinct that he was wearing contacts, as these were the fashion in the Capitol – it would be hideous if you had a natural colour that did not match your skin tone. But this man…his skin was as white as snow; I felt that if I reached out to touch it then it would crumble beneath my hand.

"I'm not blind!" I screamed at him. I could feel my self-control collapsing around me as the unblinking man observed me without a flicker of emotion. "LEAVE ME _ALONE_," I screamed at the door. I could feel my own nails piercing the flesh on my palms as I clenched my fists and found myself pounding on the concrete floor in frustration. I was like an animal. I could imagine how shocked my mother would have been at such a scene; I was curled in the corner of a cell, surrounded with my own dirt, and screaming like a banshee.

There was another voice in the room, but I could not hear who it was from my screams. I tried to calm them, but the anger that I felt was so intense that I could not see the room now. My vision was blurred as I ascended from the dream – it felt like I was breathing air after almost drowning. There seemed to be someone towering over me and I immediately cowered from the hulking form. "No, please don't touch me!" I cried out.

"Effie, sweetheart, don't be afraid. It's me." The brusque tone was familiar, and it only took me a second to realise that Haymitch was standing next to my bed. He stood in an awkward stance, he had been drinking it seemed and he didn't know whether to touch me or to sit down. It seemed that he opted to just stand there and gawk at me.

"Oh, _Haymitch_, I didn't know that it was you. There was this horrible doctor…" I seemed to blather on for another few minutes, and Haymitch's patience ran short.

"Calm down, woman, it was just a dream," he told me briskly. He seemed to pause for a moment and then turned his head to face the wall. "And cover yourself up, will you?" It was still dark in the room, but I could almost see the hint of colour in his cheeks now.

I looked down and saw that I was clad in just my under garments. I felt my own cheeks flame in embarrassment – I had been too exhausted to pull on my usual silk jammies before bed. The pains in my limbs had been unbearable, and so I merely pulled off my clothes and just managed to fold them neatly before I passed out in bed.

I scrutinised the room I was in as I pulled the duvet around me to hide my pink underwear. There was an Avox waiting uncomfortably at the door; Haymitch followed my gaze and waved a hand of dismissal at the man. I watched as he left the room; he was unsure whether or not to close the door behind him, so he settled with half-closing it so that the light from the hall still poured into the room.

I was in the president's mansion, and I had been there for some time. It had been hard at the start, to adjust to the fact that I was in _his_ home – I had been there various times, but after the torture that had been inflicted on me; I could not be there without sorrowful emotions. My mind wracked over the events of the last week; Snow was dead, Coin was dead, and Katniss was still locked in that room after shocking the entire nation.

As I looked up at Haymitch, I realised that he never really slept much since these events. There have been constant deliberations to the fate of Katniss Everdeen, and Haymitch was her main benefactor and almost acted like her guardian now. He would always be her mentor, whether or not she was in the Games.

"There was a meeting downstairs, and the Avox came to fetch me when you started throwing punches at him in your sleep," Haymitch explained in a cool tone as he leant against the wall. I studied his face from the small pool of brightness that came from the door; he was exhausted and his grey eyes were void of any kind of emotion now. "I came up here to find you screaming and thrashing, so I tried to take hold of your shoulders before you knocked yourself out." He paused for a moment, as if deliberating over whether or not to share the next piece of information with me. "You pulled my hair."

A snort erupted from me. It was the most unladylike sound that had ever emitted from me, and my skin turned white when I realised that the sound had been real. Haymitch's eyebrows shot up in surprise as he watched my laughter continue. Oh, it was so humiliating, but the humour of what he had just said was so over-powering. I clutched at my stomach in pain as my snorting laughter seemed to calm down. Didn't I mention that I had the most ridiculous laugh in the whole of the Capitol?

For a moment there was a flicker of a genuine smile on his face, but it soon faded. Haymitch took a seat on the bed and I could see from the way in which he held his shoulders that he was shattered from the recent events; I had also been planning various schedules in order to make sure that he attended each meeting that was held in the mansion. "I'm sorry," I murmured in a soft tone as I sat up on the bed, making sure to pull the duvet around me. "I can see that you are under enough stress, you didn't need me screaming like a mad-woman – with my disgusting laugh and my…hair," I scoffed in a flat tone.

Haymitch turned his head to look at me and I could see him gazing at me intently. "No, I like it…your natural hair, I mean. Oh, and your disgusting laugh, you wouldn't want to hear mine," he commented in a cool tone. He was teasing me, but it was then that I realised that I had never really heard Haymitch _laugh_. He would do it sarcastically, but not truly.

"I want to hear your laugh," I said, in an almost whine. I could feel my cheeks turn red at the desperation in my tone, but I really was curious as to how he sounded when he laughed naturally. I could feel an idea forming in my head.

"No chance, sweetheart, I haven't laughed since my name was plucked out of that reaping ball," he murmured, almost inaudibly. But I heard him. He never talked about his time in the Games, and I could feel my expression transform to one of surprise.

"Oh, is that so?" I asked in an innocent tone. I will never know what possessed me, but I launched towards him and tried my hand at tickling him. At first, he almost fell off the bed at the shock of being attacked in the most unladylike manner; but then he smirked.

"That is more like torture, princess. Don't break your talons," he snorted in amusement. But I didn't believe him; _everyone_ had that spot. It took me less than a second after his smart remark to find that spot. I buried my writhing hands into his sides and he caved. He seriously did laugh like some kind of hyena; it certainly wasn't better than mine. But it was his face that amazed me; he looked a million times younger whenever he laughed. I could almost make out the handsome young man that won the Games; he was so care-free.

However, it wasn't like Haymitch Abernathy not to retaliate. He snaked his hands around my wrists and tossed me over so that I was the one at his mercy; both my hands were held above me as Haymitch hovered over me on his hands and knees. I seemed to forget at that moment, that I was still clad in my pink underwear. But it was like the entire world froze around me. Haymitch's laugh was now a deep grumble as it faded; both of us seemed to have acquired disoriented smiles at that point. I could smell the liquor on his breath as he stared down at me.

"Effie…" His voice was so full of sorrow; I did not want to hear it. It had been such a happy moment, and I wouldn't have it ruined. I still had my hands trapped above me on the bed, and so instead of silencing him with my hand, I settled with using my mouth.

No, never in a million years would I have imagined that I would kiss Haymitch Abernathy. He was an infuriating drunk, who did not believe in personal hygiene and refused to listen to my complaints on his rude manners. But as I stared up at this new care-free Haymitch, I could not stop myself from fulfilling what my mind was screaming at me to do.

I had been soft when I captured his lips; I could taste the burning liquor and I could smell the permanent scent of mint and sweat that surrounded him. His lips were unmoving at first, but it took him just a second to melt into this bittersweet kiss that I could not possibly describe. I had surprised him when I shut him up, and now he surprised me as he slowly released my wrists and instead took my face between his palms. It was a mixture of both sweetness and passion; it was evident that it was in his natural nature to be rough, but he caressed my cheek with his thumb, almost like I was a porcelain doll. It ended too soon.

He came to his senses as soon as a satisfied moan emitted from my lips. He was out of breath and…confused, when he resurfaced to look down at me. "Haymitch, I…"

I couldn't find the words to say. I felt the need to apologise for such behaviour, but the fluttering in my stomach alerted me to the fact that I was not at all sorry. I relished it. I never had a _crush_, per se, on him. But he was always there, it seemed. He was there making his offensive remarks and sarcastic comments through my highs and lows, and I couldn't have handled it most of the time if they hadn't been there. He stayed with me in the hospital, when he didn't need to. I insisted that my friends would come, but we both knew that they wouldn't. I opened my mouth to form some kind of sentence.

But I didn't need to find the words after all. He climbed off me immediately and stumbled drunkenly as he bee-lined towards the door. It slammed behind him. I had the strong urge to throw my brush at the door, or scream into my pillow, but instead I just lay there and stared at the ceiling in amazement.

"I hate you, Haymitch Abernathy," I whispered into the darkness as tears brimmed my shimmering blue eyes. But I found myself reaching up and touching my lips; I could still feel the warmth that he had left there.


	5. Chapter Four: Chocolate Comforts

**NOTE FROM AUTHOR: **Thank you all for your reviews, they really do spur me to keep on writing! I will try and update at least once each day, okay? I want to make this quite a long fanfiction. I would like to point out that this chapter really does focus on the emptiness that both characters feel - yes, things are heated in this chapter, but that does not mean that Effie and Haymitch are in love yet! I find it unrealistic when characters immediately fall in love in fanfictions, so this will be quite gradual. It will be merely a sexual/emotional relationship for a while, until it turns into some real fluff. Don't worry, there will be smut throughout!

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(_Effie's POV_)

It has been the most infuriating few days in my entire existence. Yes, there have been times when I have been under a lot of stress and felt like screaming, but this was horrible, readers. It would have been at least bearable if that stupid man had said _something _after our encounter, but no, he remained silent on the matter and preferred to pretend like it never occurred. I had expected no less from the unpleasant drunkard. But somehow, it hurt more than I ever thought imaginable – I would take the abuse during my imprisonment rather than feel this emotional pain that coursed through me each time I watched him avoid me. It was like he could sense me before I even entered the room. I was near breaking point.

Haymitch seemed to use alcohol to quench his emotions, and it worked quite well for him for the years in which I have known him. However, I have my own _little_ addiction that it quite worse than Haymitch's alcoholism. I'm sure that I would be ruined if I was found out on this small secret, but I could be considered as a severe chocoholic.

It was even worse that this mansion was adorned with all these delicious treats; I have never taken the medication that allows you to throw up your meals, but thankfully the amount of walking around I do has allowed me to attain a slender form. But this awkward episode with Haymitch has brought me straight back to the delectable chocolate treats that I tried so hard to dismiss each time I walked past them. It took all my strength not to clutch onto some toffees and stuff them into my puffed sleeves.

The situation did not improve even after the new President was elected and the odds seemed to be in Katniss' favour when it came to her trial. Haymitch continued to drink and dismiss me like I was some kind of servant. No, that would not do at all. I had decided that I would face him before this entire situation became out of hand – I would tell him that I had no idea what came over me and that he should not leave the Capitol with bad feelings of me. I am, after all, such a sweet woman who just wants to bring out the best in others. I smile at my rehearsed speech, but now all I needed was some courage to stand up and speak the words.

I found myself in the buffet room after dinner; the entire inhabitants of the mansion seemed to prefer picking out what they wanted from an assorted buffet and took their plates into meeting rooms and such to have more discussions on the future of Panem. But no matter what these men and women were discussing, I found that it was _such _bad manners not to eat at the dinner table like gentlemen and ladies. It was almost as bad as eating your meal in the _living room, _and in front of the _television_. I visibly shook at the thought of such manners. I was sure that Haymitch was one to indulge in such behaviour when he chose food over drink.

The thought of Haymitch brought me back to my recent mission; to clear the air between us and continue on with my life, as if that wretched kiss had never taken place. I was clearly in such a delicate position after my imprisonment, and I could have become intoxicated at the mere stench on Haymitch's breath. It was possible, I assumed.

I was alone in the buffet room at that moment in time; I can still remember the delicious wafts of chocolate that surrounded the entire room. It was as if all the other food had diminished from the table, and now all I could see was that scrumptious chocolate fountain. The melted chocolate fell down in cascades of pleasantness and I could feel myself move towards it unintentionally – well, I assumed that one little strawberry would do no harm. I took the strawberry in my hand and held it under the steady flow of chocolate in the fountain; but as soon as the fruit came into contact with my mouth, I knew that I was a lost cause. The entire plate of strawberries was finished within a few minutes, and I looked around frantically for more food to saturate in the luscious chocolate. But in the end, I settled with leaning forward and neatly licking at the gushing melted chocolate. My self-preservation crumbled and I more than climbed onto the table so that I could swallow some more of the sweet substance that seemed to warm my entire body in the process.

No, I did not plan on being caught in such a despicable position. But the odds were definitely _not _in my favour recently. I was on my hands and knees on the table when I heard someone clear their throat in the doorway. I immediately leapt from the table and straightened my dress with a little flutter of my hands; I did have the most innocent expression. It could have passed, if the lower half of my face was not soaked in oozing chocolate. I was so ashamed.

I hung my head in embarrassment, until I noticed the scuffed shoes below me. I narrowed my eyes and changed my stance so that I stood tall and confident, despite my ridiculous demeanour. I had the chance now, to clear the air and make sure that all bad feelings have been dispelled between us both. I could feel my cheeks redden under his steady gaze.

"It's nice to know that you notice my existence _now_, Haymitch," I said pertly. Bu before I could continue with my explanation of previous events, he started to laugh. It was not the same hyena laugh that I could remember from the other night, but it was close. There was some genuineness to his laughter at that moment. I clenched my fists to halt myself from remembering that kiss – I would do anything to _not _remember that blissful kiss.

"I didn't think that even you would dismiss proper manners for a bit of chocolate," he chuckled in a soft tone as he watches me in amazement. He doesn't seem mad at me, like he did whenever he stormed from my room. "You amaze me, princess." His words seemed truthful, but I was under the impression that he must be horribly drunk.

Haymitch reached forward and I froze on the spot; I didn't even breathe as his thumb ran over my lips in amusement; he brought his thumb back to his own mouth and tasted the chocolate with a hum of satisfaction. I could only watch him with an unusual feeling in the pit of my stomach; I realised that the chocolate was not a wonderful idea after all.

I felt a sudden surge of anger in my veins at his audacity. "How _dare_ you ignore me for all this time?" I cried out in a fit of annoyance. I leant forward and poked his chest with my chocolate-soaked finger; he looked down at the stain on his shirt with indifference. I knew that my brow was creased in concentration as I tried to find the words to yell at him. But instead, I felt tears on my lashes as I tried to blink them away. Haymitch noticed my outburst at the same time and reached out to try his hand at withholding the waterworks.

He wasn't successful. I could feel my bottom lip quivering in a child-like fashion as the tears gushed down my cheeks and met the chocolate that still clung to my face, like I was some kind of monster that had just devoured an entire candy store. I was humiliated – with both the current situation and the fact that all I wanted to do was kiss the stupid man standing in front of me. No, this desire was not always present. But after that disoriented moment in my room, all I have craved was the warmth that came with his kisses.

"Come on, Eff, we have to clean you up," he murmured in a brusque tone. I didn't want to lose my job just because I stood in the buffet room, covered in chocolate and sobbing. I looked more than demented, and that would not be gentle on my reputation.

I clung to Haymitch as he walked me unsteadily back to my room. Yes, I was now under the impression that we were _both _messes. He was a selfish, ill-mannered drunkard, and I was a ridiculous, broken woman who now had a crooked wig that was drenched in chocolate. He pulled me into the attached bathroom and I sat pathetically on the bath as Haymitch soaked a cloth with water in order to clean me as if I were a spoiled child. I pouted when he turned to me and tried to snatch the cloth from him. His reflexes were much better than mine.

"I don't think so, sweetheart. I have a feeling that you overdosed on some of that chocolate, huh?" he scoffed, and I cowered back in embarrassment. There was something different about his tone with me now; he was still sarcastic, but there was softness in there.

"I do not see the harm in a little chocolate treat. Besides, you drown yourself in liquor and I don't mention it most of the time," I retorted in an inaudible tone.

Haymitch brought the cloth to my face and cleared away the chocolate within a few minutes; he pretended to concentrate on the task at hand, but I could see his grey eyes wavering towards me now and then in bewilderment. It irritated me, somehow; to not know what in Panem was running through his thoughts when he looked at me like that. I did not understand Haymitch Abernathy whatsoever, and nor did I mean to understand him – men like that were much too complicated and I cursed myself for that blasted kiss once more.

"Haymitch, please let me explain about the other night," I started frantically. But he shook his head and brought his hands to my golden wig – he removed it from my head without permission (which I thought was _quite_ rude), and I felt my short blonde curls bounce around my neck once more in the most uncomfortable manner. I felt _naked_ without it on. He continued to use the cloth on my face as he took away each inch of make-up that had been put on that morning; I opened my mouth to protest various times, but Haymitch silenced me immediately with his serious stares. I was horrified by the time he halted.

I could see in the mirror across the bathroom, and I frowned at my reflection. I looked like any old person now, and I could have been from any of the districts. This was the person that I hated to see in the morning, but she was always there. I felt my hand flutter to my face as I hid from my own reflection and instead peered into the darkness.

Haymitch's hand captured my trembling hand and he gently pulled it away from my face. He was silent now, for once, with nothing offensive or sarcastic to throw at me. "I don't understand…I wanted to apologise, but you ignored me for days…" I stammered. I sounded weak, and I knew that it was the fact that I was now basically naked to him.

"I wanted to talk to the woman I kissed, not a made-up doll." He did not elaborate on his immediate answer, but I could hear the sincerity in his voice. There was a mixture of confusion and amazement in his expression now as he peered down at me.

"I know that you stayed with me in the hospital…" I murmured, almost a whisper. He was leaning closer to me now, and I could feel that intoxicating feeling surround me once more. "I was so scared, Haymitch, but I didn't feel so scared when I realised that you would still be there when I woke." I did not know how else I could explain it to him. I didn't know what kind of sentiments I felt towards this horrid man, and I did not want to dwell on them. But still, I could not bring myself to stand and push him away from me.

"I wanted to leave, believe me. I can't _stand_ you, Effie Trinket. But you were different, you seemed so…broken," he mumbled in response. I knew that I should be offended, but I knew that his words were truthful, and he did not mean them in a callous way.

"I don't know who I am anymore, Haymitch. I _am _broken." My voice sounded distant now as my tears gathered once more. But he reached out to catch them before they streamed down my cheeks. I could feel his breath mix with mine now as he looked at me.

"I guess that makes two of us, sweetheart."

Haymitch did not hesitate as he took my face between his palms once more; he paused for a short moment as he took in my expression – sorrow. It matched his own expression. But it diminished as soon as I felt the warmth of his lips on mine; he was slow with me at first. I melted into him and clutched the back of his neck to keep me from falling into the bath. He was stronger than he looked, despite the fact that he was an alcoholic who did nothing but lie around all day. He was evidently intoxicated, but his actions were so firm and sure.

He led me back into the bedroom whilst he threw my golden wig into the sink. Our next actions were clumsy almost, as clothes were torn from one another's body. Yes, it was rather easy with Haymitch as he was half-dressed most of the time; but he swore colourfully each time he came into contact with a button or zip in my dress that would not open for him. I would pause now and then to scold him for such rude language, but that would usually result in another round of kissing in order to shut me up, I presumed.

I had no idea what was happening – I _loathed_ Haymitch Abernathy most of the time. But all I knew was that we were both broken, and we needed to fill that hole inside of us. He seemed to take way my sadness, and I could not part with him for that.

I had never felt more intimate with a man in my entire life. I was clean of all cosmetics, and he looked down at me as if I were the only woman that existed; I was not sure if this was his intention, but it made me feel _pleasant_. I liked it.

No, readers, I will not elaborate on this encounter – I must preserve some self-respect! But, just between us women, I would like to add that Haymitch does _not _have the beer belly that most alcoholics possess. I was worried when the clothes started to come off, if I would soon be repulsed and have to run from the room; after all, everything about Haymitch does tend to repulse me at times. But I was pleasantly surprised. He was toned, quite toned, and I made a mental note to ask him how in Panem he managed that in his state.

But it was like something I had never felt before in my entire existence. There was passion, most definitely, but Haymitch possessed softness with me. He took the time to graze his lips over each bruise that still adorned my petite body; he treated me with care as we became one and he brushed my hair from my eyes when it was over.

"You taste like chocolate."

Those were the last words that I heard before I fell into the most peaceful slumber; he left sometime during the night, but all that mattered was that I could feel warm arms around me when I started to dream.

We were both broken, but I felt whole that night.


End file.
